


I would rather see her lovely step (than ranks of footsoldiers)

by starraya



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Sexual Content, title from sappho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starraya/pseuds/starraya
Summary: "Our new director of medicine," Serena tells Fletch after Gaskell leaves. "My new partner in crime.""Does Bernie know?"Serena sips her wine, sighs. "I wish she was here.""I know you do."





	I would rather see her lovely step (than ranks of footsoldiers)

"Our new director of medicine," Serena tells Fletch after Gaskell leaves. "My new partner in crime."

  
"Does Bernie know?"

  
Serena sips her wine, sighs. "I wish she was here."

  
"I know you do."

  
-

  
Serena arrives on British soil with Bernie's goodbye kiss still lingering on her lips. They had spent last night clinging on each other, nails digging into backs, hands fisting in hair, teeth nipping at necks and breasts and thighs. Each of them taking and taking from each other, drawing out moans and gasps and sighs, drawing out the pleasure until it edged into pain, and then back into pleasure, back and forth like the roll of the tide, rising and cresting and crashing.

They know each other's bodies, by now, of course. They relearnt them in the south of France under the sun and surrounded by the sweet scent of grapes. A remapping, taking in the new as well as the familiar. Serena has more freckles across her chest from days spent outside, more muscle in her arms from picking grapes and carrying crates of wine. Bernie has a small burn scar on the inside of her arm from a "one-woman fight with a very burnt lasagne". Has darker and deeper circles under her eyes than Serena remembers. Fuck NHS cuts, she thinks, when Bernie collapses in her arms and cries over the loss of their trauma unit.

Bernie admits that she's had enough, that the thought of Serena, the thought of keeping their ward firing on all cylinders was the only thing that got her out of bed in the morning.

The night Bernie arrives in France Serena kneads out the worst knots she's ever felt from Bernie's back. She cooks her delicious home-made lasagne -

  
"Now this is just the universe rubbing it in."

  
"What on earth do you mean?"

  
"I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh."

  
\- and tells Bernie to leave the unpacking until tomorrow, that for now they should just go to bed. She needs rest.

  
The mattress is strange, and the pillows and the sheets, but they all smell of Serena and when Bernie nestles back against her, Serena's arm hooking around her waist, she feels as if Serena has anchored her, finally feels that she can rest. She falls asleep content, the promise of waking up with Serena, of making breakfast with her, walking around the vineyard with her, making love to her, learning her again, filling her body with warmth.

  
-

  
The day before Serena leaves Nairobi they commit every inch of each other's bodies to memory with an desperate assault of hands and lips and teeth and tongues. In the morning, they make love again, soft and slow. A gentle letting go.

  
Afterwards, Bernie retrieves a colourful piece of fabric from underneath their bed and places it loosely around Serena's bare shoulders.

  
A scarf. To ward off the February chill.

  
-

  
Serena stands within the hospital car park, takes in a lungful of icy air and readjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

  
Avoids glancing at the roof of the hospital.

  
She tells Jac she's just steadying the ship in Henrick's absence. Repeats it to herself throughout her first day back. That soon she will be back within Bernie's arms.

  
-

  
"Between you and me," Serena admits to Fletch, "I'd cheerfully hand Gaskell the whole show."

  
And she means it. She's fed-up with the boardroom. Fed-up with the mountains of paper-work. Fed-up with the power-plays. Gaskell slithering his way onto the board so he can push forward his trial, under the guise of better patient care. Roxanna's trial Serena had said a firm no to, until they'd both outmanoeuvred her.

  
A couple of years ago, she wanted nothing more than to be CEO. But you never get what you want when you want it, and now she simply doesn't have the energy for what is turning into a  bureaucratic nightmare. 

  
She wants to be back in Nairobi, helping Bernie set up the trauma unit. She misses the frontline of medicine, the cut and thrust of emergency surgery. Tells Bernie when she calls her later that night.

  
"I'm tired."

  
"I know," Bernie replies. "Just a few more weeks."

  
Serena brushes a hand through bubbles, outstretches her arm. Her tan is nearly gone. "I miss you."

  
"I miss you too."

  
Serena sits up. Stretches her aching back.

  
"What was that?" Bernie asks at the sound of water sloshing.

  
"I'm in the bath."

  
"And you're only just telling me this now?"

  
Serena laughs. "Last time I nearly dropped the phone. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until I'm out."

  
"And then?"

  
"I'm all yours."


End file.
